The Ward's Bride (Border Series Prequel Novella)

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The Ward's Bride (Border Series Prequel Novella) Page 9

by Cecelia Mecca


  He froze at the sight that greeted him.

  Oh God, Cora.

  “Is all well?” Richard asked. He accepted a bag from his squire as he prepared to leave Langford as planned. Or rather, two days after he had originally planned to leave for Kenshire. Adam’s impromptu archery lesson had delayed his stay.

  But it wasn’t the sight of Richard that made his blood run cold. It was the woman standing next to him, her horse ready, her bags apparently packed.

  “Going somewhere, my lady?” Adam could not keep the sarcasm from his tone. Furious, he wanted to grab her saddlebags and march them back into the keep. Instead, he watched silently as she made preparations to leave him forever.

  “Richard has kindly agreed to escort me to the border, my lord. I’ll send word to my father’s men from there.”

  She had the decency to look embarrassed. And while everyone present attempted to appear unconcerned, neither Charles nor Clare accomplished the feat. They both looked positively shocked. Adam couldn’t blame them. He’d allowed himself to believe she would stay—that he’d earned her trust, and the emotions he felt for her were not one-sided.

  He glared at Richard, who raised his eyebrows. Escort her to the border?

  Never.

  “My thanks, brother. I trust you to keep the lady safe on her journey?”

  Adam wasn’t sure if she or Richard appeared more surprised.

  “Of course. But why did you not wake me?”

  Adam knew Richard would wish to take part in the chase, but Langford was his responsibility, and its people needed to know their new lord was capable of taking swift, decisive action against those who thought to take advantage of the transition.

  “There was no need,” he said simply.

  He walked to Cora, and though it hurt him to play any part in her departure, he helped her onto her mount. The crimson fur-lined cape brushed his fingers, reminding him of the smooth silkiness of her legs.

  He’d bedded women before, but last eve had been something entirely different. Adam had fallen in love with his wife. But he’d also given her his word, and he had no choice other than to allow her to leave.

  He leaned down to whisper to her. “Goodbye, Cora. Thank you for the gift of last evening.”

  After she was safely on her mount, he promptly turned to walk away. Richard followed.

  “What shall I do, Adam?”

  He stopped and embraced his friend. His brother. “Take her home. And tell your father I’m sorry.”

  “You aren’t serious?”

  “If there had not been a raid, perhaps…”

  “It matters not! She is your wife. Tell her—”

  “I will not have a wife who longs for home. Who mistrusts her husband and her countrymen. If she still wants to leave, perhaps it’s for the best.”

  He didn’t really believe the words—and he could tell Richard knew it. But what else was there to say? He had tried to court his wife, and he had failed.

  Cora was lost to him.

  With a final shake of his head, Richard clasped his arm, nodded, and turned away.

  Adam never looked back.

  10

  When they stopped to water the horses, Cora recognized the lake from her journey south. She had not spoken to Sir Richard or his men since their departure from the keep. She could tell all of them but Richard were confused, but Cora didn’t care.

  She wasn’t sure if she’d care about anything ever again.

  She had gotten exactly what she’d thought she wanted. She should be elated. Excited to see her family, her sister. To hear the familiar sounds of her clansmen and Alan’s soft-spoken words of encouragement as they trained in the yard.

  Instead, every limb in her body felt heavy. Her chest ached, likely for the broken heart she’d left behind. Somehow, unbelievably, she’d done the one thing she had sworn she would never, ever do.

  Fall in love with an Englishman.

  But it mattered not. When she spoke of her parents’ loveless marriage, he agreed it was typical. At least back home, she would be surrounded by a family and clan that loved her.

  But the thought of Adam doing what he’d done to her the night before…

  “Are you ready, my lady?”

  Sir Richard had been a polite, if silent, escort.

  “Aye.” She stood and followed him toward their mounts.

  The sun, high in the sky now, warmed her enough for Cora to take off her cloak. Underneath, the plain, serviceable day gown matched her mood.

  “Sir Richard, I meant to ask. My father will surely question me…what happened to the man who saved you that day?”

  That day. The Day of Truce. The day responsible for her current predicament.

  Richard spoke to one of the men who rode ahead, presumably ordering him to scout, then turned back to her.

  “Sir Hugh Waryn, you mean,” he replied. “I count him a dear friend.”

  “I’m glad for it. Having friends along the border is better than counting your enemies,” Cora said.

  “That sounds like something Adam would say,” Richard replied, quirking his mouth into a grin.

  The sound of his name drew a sharp pain in her chest.

  But he was right. “He does speak of peace often. And also talks highly of you,” Cora said.

  Richard looked as if he considered his next words carefully. Cora wished he hadn’t brought up the subject of her husband.

  “And he of you.”

  That was all he said. What had she hoped for? Professions of Adam’s undying love for her? Assurances that their marriage would not lack for love? What did it matter?

  It matters a great deal.

  Last eve, Adam had told her ‘I am not your father.’ But words were hollow, were they not?

  She froze.

  “What is it, my lady?”

  “My lord, may I have a word?” One of Richard’s retainers called to him.

  “Pardon, my lady.”

  Cora stuck her hand in the folds of her traveling gown and squeezed the sealed letter. Her heart began to beat furiously as she lifted it, tore the seal, and began to read.

  As suspected, it was the monk’s handwriting. He’d taught her to read and write, but her mother could not do so. Her hands began to shake as she continued to read.

  “Your marriage is a noble act, my daughter, but one you should not regret. May you find the love with your husband that I did not. Your father is a good man and loves you dearly. As do I. Have courage and all will be as it should.”

  “Lady Cora, are you well? You look quite pale.”

  If she was pale, there was good reason for it.

  “I may have made a mistake.”

  He looked at her as if she were mad.

  “My lord, you know Adam well.” She wasn’t sure how to proceed.

  “If you’re asking if Adam loves you, that’s an easy question to answer. I know the man better than I do myself and have never seen him like this, if you’ll pardon my saying so. I could tell immediately he was besotted by you.”

  As if he’d said too much, Richard abruptly turned away.

  Cora stopped him.

  “I must go back.”

  He spun toward her, his eyes wide.

  “Pardon?”

  “Sir Richard. I have made a mistake. A terrible mistake. It will be a wonder if Adam forgives me for what I’ve done this day. But I must go back. Immediately.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest. Adam kept his promise to let her go. Risked the anger of his liege and her father, not to mention embarrassment to his people for his wayward wife’s actions.

  He’d done it because he was an honorable man. One that was capable of both leadership and love. A different man than her father.

  She looked up at Richard, frantic now.

  “I beg you, please, take me—”

  He had already moved to assist her onto her horse. “To Langford.”

  To the south. Away from her home. Away from Scotland.


  To the man she loved.

  Adam was pacing in the solar, waiting for word from Charles, when the door opened. He prepared to set the steward down for taking so long.

  But it was not Charles who stood in the threshold.

  “Cora?”

  She looked as if she’d been riding all day, without pause. Her hair was pulled back in a braid, but wayward strands peeked out from more than one spot. Her gown was dirty and she breathed heavily as if she’d run the entire way back.

  She’d never been more beautiful to him.

  “Adam—” she rushed into the room and threw herself into his arms, “—I was a fool.”

  He held his wife so tightly that he feared he’d crush her. He didn’t want to let go. He never wanted to let go.

  “Our vows…you said …it was a stupid thing to do. You’re right—you aren’t my father. And these people. They’re kind and giving, like you. It makes no difference that they’re English. And I do trust you.” Her words tumbled out so fast, Adam had a difficult time understanding what she said.

  “And the contest. You kept your word. I’m so sorry.” Adam felt the wetness of her cheeks on his shoulder.

  “Shhh, my love. Don’t think me too noble.” He kissed her face, her lips. She opened for him immediately and Adam pressed himself against her. She was back.

  Her mouth felt soft and smooth beneath his own. Adam wanted to tear the gown off her body and show her just how much he wanted her. Needed her. But he had to tell her first.

  “I love you, Cora.”

  Her lips turned up in the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. God, she was magnificent.

  “And I love you. I didn’t want to leave. I—”

  He placed a finger on her lips. “It matters not. You’re here, where you belong.”

  “Aye. With you.” She looked up at him quizzically. “What did you mean when you said ‘Don’t think me too honorable?’”

  He smiled wryly. “Just that I didn’t plan to keep my word for long.” He pointed to a packed bag near his chair.

  “You were coming for me!”

  “Of course. Do you honestly believe I’d let the woman I love escape back to the wilds of Scotland? Where everyone knows all manners of hideous beasts roam?”

  She laughed. A delicate, delicious sound.

  “I’ve heard they are quite terrifying, those Scots.”

  “Especially the ones at the border. ‘Tis said the women train with the men, if you can imagine such a thing.”

  He kissed her again, allowing his hands to roam toward her ample bosom.

  His voice lowered. “‘Tis said their maids are insatiable, that it takes a lifetime to satisfy their lust.”

  “That, my English lord, is something I intend to find out.”

  Adam looked forward to such a discovery.

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  Also by Cecelia Mecca

  The Thief’s Countess (Available Now)

  Sir Geoffrey has been reduced to stealing the resources he needs to reclaim his family legacy. Lady Sara is distraction he resents. With her betrothed coming to claim her hand in marriage and a distant cousin intent on usurping her earldom, the countess feels beset by controlling, unwanted men including the reiver sent to protect her. As the threats continue to mount, Sara must decide what’s more important—her duty or her heart.

  The Lord’s Captive (Available Now)

  After reclaiming his brother’s inheritance, Sir Bryce is faced with an unwanted distraction—the sister of his greatest enemy. Divided loyalties pull the English knight and his Scottish captive, Lady Cora, apart even as passion ignites between the unlikely pair.

  The Thief’s Countess Excerpt

  “Thieving bastards.” Sir Geoffrey Waryn wasn’t talking to anyone in particular, but his uncle wouldn’t let the comment pass.

  “Should I remind you this raid was your idea?” Sir Hugh Waryn shouted, riding next to him. “Besides, neither of us should comment on thievery.”

  Ignoring that last remark, Geoffrey urged his horse to a gallop. He needed to undo what he’d done, and that meant finding the others before the daylight faded. They couldn’t be far ahead, but the forest was dense enough to restrict his view.

  “There,” he whispered. The trees had opened to a small clearing, and there they were, the small gang of reivers Geoffrey and his uncle had aligned themselves with a few weeks earlier. The crisp autumn air filled his lungs as he deliberately slowed his breathing, preparing for the worst.

  He should have trusted his instincts and his uncle’s counsel. Even among thieves, these men had no honor. The raid had gone well until the lord’s young son had made an appearance. Then, before Geoffrey realized what Elliot and his cousins were planning, they’d sped away with the boy in tow.

  Stealing cattle was one thing. Geoffrey and his uncle needed resources, badly. Stealing a lad was quite another.

  The last thing he wanted was a fight with these men, but he would not let them kidnap the boy.

  Geoffrey easily passed all four mounted reivers, including the one who held the young boy, and angled his horse in front of the front rider. His uncle skirted a massive oak to remain at his side.

  “Give him up, Elliot,” Geoffrey shouted to the startled man in the lead.

  The leader abruptly stopped, leapt from his horse, and grabbed the lance at his side.

  Damn. Elliot isn’t going to make this easy. Well, neither will I.

  A leering grin spread across his former ally’s face. “If you want him, take him.”

  Swinging his own lance into place, Geoffrey decided to make a quick demonstration of the leader as the other men began to dismount from every side. Towering above his opponent, Geoffrey swung his lance, laying the man flat on the ground with two deft strokes. He tossed the lance aside, slipped his dirk from its leather sheath, and held the knife to Elliot’s neck. The leader’s eyes darted to the other riders, one of whom had dragged the bound and gagged hostage with him toward the fight.

  “Don’t be stupid. You know exactly how this will end.” He had no desire to spill the blood of a fellow Englishman.

  But he would.

  “Drop your weapons.” His tone made it clear that it was not a request.

  Geoffrey had a bit of a reputation with his lance, and he wasn’t surprised when they tossed their weapons to the ground. “I have no desire to call the Elliot family an enemy, but you go too far.”

  “Sir Geoffrey.” Elliot’s eyes darted desperately from him to the hostage. “Think of the ransom.”

  Geoffrey sheathed his dirk and walked swiftly over to the child. He said nothing as he pulled the boy out of his kidnapper’s grasp and lifted him onto his own destrier.

  Only then did he turn back to his opponent, who was rubbing his back and attempting to stand. “Elliot, think of your honor.”

  A ransom that would feed them for months wasn’t worth terrifying an innocent young lad. The captive was no more than ten and one, and his eyes were wide and full of tears. Geoffrey’
s stomach roiled.

  Had it really come to this?

  “Thank you, milord.”

  Geoffrey didn’t correct him.

  “I’m sorry you were so mishandled, boy.” After a short ride, he and Hugh dropped the boy off a safe distance from the search party that had been sent out for him.

  Without speaking, Geoffrey followed his uncle’s lead as they rode away from the sight of the botched raid. Their mounts expertly navigated increasingly uneven terrain as they headed south into the Cheviot Hills. A steep incline and rocky descent finally gave way to a narrow valley surrounded by mountains on both sides. When they reached flat ground, they exchanged a nod, then dismounted to give their horses a much needed rest.

  And resumed the argument that had begun before that evening’s doomed attempt to steal a few heads of cattle to feed his siblings and sell to retain mercenaries for their campaign.

  “I won’t do it.” Hugh was the last person Geoffrey wanted to contradict, but the stakes were too high. They’d been building momentum, gathering promises from men to fight along with resources, and this wasn’t the time to stop. Five years earlier, Scottish raiders had stolen Geoffrey’s home, his inheritance. Everything he and his family owned. And he would not rest until his parents were avenged. “I’m not a nursemaid to be ordered about by Caiser’s steward.”

  When his uncle had received word the day before that his assistance was required at Kenshire Castle, the seat of the Earldom of Kenshire, Hugh had shocked Geoffrey by instantly agreeing to the request. He immediately sent word to Geoffrey’s siblings that their return would be delayed.

  “What of Lettie and Simon? They need the spoils of this raid.”

  His mother’s aunt and her husband cared for Geoffrey’s brothers and sister. They took them in when Bristol was lost, but the small manor could hardly sustain itself even without extra mouths to feed.

 

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